Page 151 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

That’s what I gave her? That was my contribution to the joy she was meticulously building for us?

And not the truth? Not that the location was irrelevant because her presence was the only destination I cared about? Not that her pride in a plan well-made was more beautiful to me than any sunset? Not that the activities themselves were just noise, but her laughter during them was the only music I wanted to hear? Not that she was the one who transformed the mundane into magic, and I was just grateful to be her audience?

Instead of any of that… I’d given her “fine.”

A cold, sickening clarity washed over me. Why had I saved all those words? Locked them away like precious artifacts, thinking my silent appreciation was enough? What had I been protecting them for? A more dramatic moment? A grander gesture?

What had I gained by withholding the very admiration that filled my chest every time she looked at me with those planning-bright eyes?

Nothing. I had gained nothing. And I had lost everything.

Alessia noticed my expression—the frozen horror, the dawning catastrophe—and, with a kindness I did not deserve, she changed the subject. Even now, she was throwing me a line.

“So how’s your work going?” she asked.

I looked down at my hands, gripping the edge of the counter. “It’s f—great,” I corrected, forcing calm into my voice. “Everything’s… stable. The restaurant project is on track. We’ve even secured a few new investors. Things are finally solid.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking another spoonful of soup. “New investors. Well, at least the party wasn’t a complete waste then. You got some help with your work.”

I frowned, my brain sluggishly processing the connection. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at me. “The birthday party I held for you. It was part birthday, part networking. A lot of potential investors were there. People who wouldn’t normally take a meeting. I thought it hadn’t worked. But I’m glad it did something. I lost Mrs. Garcia over it, so it’s good to know it wasn’t a total loss.”

She kept talking about something else, but her words had turned into a deafening roar in my ears.

The party was held to help me with my work.

Alessia had seen me drowning. She’d seen the strain I refused to name, the late nights, the silent panic. And instead of demanding I talk, she had built a lifeboat. She’d used her own professional capital, her own reputation, to construct a room full of lifelines for me.

She had done that. For me.

And she had paid for it. With Mrs. Garcia. With her favorite client, her mentor. A loss she’d carried alone.

And what was my part in her grand, silent gesture of love?

I was late.

I was absent.

I had dismissed her.

I was celebrating with my team while she played hostess to my potential saviors.

The floor shifted beneath my feet. Each breath came thin and sharp, barely reaching my lungs. A sickening understanding hit me, leaving a hollow ache beneath my ribs.

I’d forgotten the party entirely. I’d taken the one thing she’d built to save me, and I’d crushed it under my heel without even looking down.

I ruined everything.

One moment I was standing across from her, and the next, I was moving. I rounded the counter and dropped to my knees in front of her stool, my head falling heavily into her lap. The world narrowed to the soft fabric of her clothes and the scent of her soap.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her body went rigid, her hands coming up as if to push me away. She tried to shift back, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was shattering, and the only solid thing in the universe was her.

For a few seconds, she stayed frozen above me. I could feel the tension running through her, the uncertainty in the way her hands hovered without knowing where to go. She could have pushed me away. She had every reason to. Instead, her fingers slowly lowered.

A hesitant touch brushed through my hair.

I went still.